Eriador Road: part 3
by Holly of Hollin
Summary: In which an old foe returns and the Rivendellians divert themselves in various ways


_In which an old foe returns and the Rivendellians divert themselves in various ways_

i)

In the dank bottom of a danker ravine; in the eddy created by an ancient rock shoulder, there was a tiny beach of sorts, made of black sand and mud.

River weed, rubbish and old beer bottles marked 'Produce of the Shire' blanketed it like the river's guilt – doomed forever to accumulate and never wash away, age upon age.

Even for the eagle, beating south over the turbulent airs of lower Bruinen, it would have been hard to pick out the black, crumpled mass that lay there from the debris that surrounded and part-covered it, and it did not.

The eagle was in a bad mood, having been sent out only to drop off a parcel of Gandalf's undershirts that had come back too late from the laundry.

"This is no job for an eagle," it muttered and began to hum a bossa nova tune it had picked up from the parakeets on holiday last year.

_Flying high, yes flying's lovely  
The eagle's wings are the colour of honey  
And he sees everything there is to see.. oh yeah baby.._

The great creature disappeared south, leaving the ravine to a few worn-out crows. When all sound of its wingbeats had faded away, the black shape groaned and moved. Something like an arm extended from something like a body, shrouded in something like a sack. A thin groan threaded the wind.

After a while, the oldest and boldest of the crows teetered awkwardly down to the beach and cautiously approached the figure. Experimentally, it attempted a poke. With a swiftness that defied vision, a gloved hand shot out and seized its legs, turning the shrieking creature this way and that.

There was a sniffing sound as the hand brought the creature close to the shrouded head. Desperately, the crow aimed a peck.

"Ouch," said the figure and hurled the crow far out over the waters. It caught the wind and laboured off, trying to ignore the laughter of its fellows.

The Nazgul struggled into a sitting position and rubbed its arm before slowly getting to its feet. Lifting the edge of its sodden robes, it began to squeeze water from them. There was a lot of water, and soon it stood in a little pool.

Eventually, it turned its head to the cliffs and began to squelch towards them. From the shadowy cowl, there came a loud sneeze.

ii)

The next morning, Callexica and Glorfindel were having their first smoke of the day on the balcony. The lady was leaning on a carved pillar in a corner, while Glorfindel had his feet on the table; he still wore the glass circles over his eyes. Down below on the terrace, Aarghh was stacking the sun loungers.

For a while, they smoked in silence. Eventually, Glorfindel took a pull of miruvor and sent a faint smoke ring, like a question mark, over her head.

"You have no idea how glad I am you're back, Gerry," she said. "This place is deader than the black land. I can see why Celebrian left now."

The elf lord grinned lazily: "So the rumours aren't true, then?" Callexica blushed rose-pink and returned her attention to the terrace, where Aarghh was now collapsing the last of the umbrellas.

"The gods know I didn't do right by my sister…" A faint note of defiance crept into her voice. "We were younger then, the world was younger; we made a difference, we _mattered_.

"Celebrian told me when he came back from the last war there was something different about him. He wouldn't talk to anyone; least of all her. Nothing and no-one could get through to him, except..."

"Except you."

"Except me. For a while, at least. Now look at him."

For the first time, she faced him directly.

"Nothing changes here, Gerry. Nothing. It's all right for you – riding off here, there and everywhere. You can go out into the world and come back whenever you feel like it. But staying in this place, year after year, singing the same songs, while the dust keeps falling…" She shrugged. "It can suffocate you sometimes."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Have a drink, Cally, you'll feel better. And sit down." He gestured at the empty chair, but instead she moved to his side, and put an arm around his shoulders.

"The only thing that would make me feel _better _would be if you and your friends played like you did last night every night."

"Sorry, love, that was a one-off. We hit the road tomorrow; the big guy's orders."

She sighed and stroked a strand of his fine hair, like water through her fingers. "To the war?"

He put his hand up to push her away, and then thought better of it.

"Do me a favour. Nothing to do with us. All the king's horses can handle that. No, the boys have asked me to go with them on the Eriador leg of their tour. They're heading west tomorrow first thing. Well, sort of first thing. You know how musicians are."

"I don't know," she said softly, and began to rub his shoulders. "You'll have to teach me."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Aarghh sweeping the terrace. Then he turned to her, took her hand, and smiled. She smiled back.

"Could you use another singer?" she said.

iii)

In his private house of office, Elrond sat staring bleakly at the door, and wondering if Gandalf's latest potion would ever work. It was always a strain, no matter what remedy he tried. How many times had he sat here like this, he reflected bitterly. How many years, how many _centuries_?

He regarded the shelf at his elbow unenthusiastically: a worn copy of _Battles of Beleriand_; a creased paperback _Rough Guide to Mordor_; and a pristine, 12-volume set of Bilbo's _Translations from the Elvish_, bound in thick red leather. One of only… well, one, really. There was a thin green ribbon, very close to the beginning of volume one.

A new thought emerged in his wise, ancient eyes, like a star emerging through thin cloud. For a minute or two, he turned his head as if listening. At last, satisfied all was quiet, he took out a silver key on a chain from beneath his undershirt and fitted it into a tiny knot hole in the wall. Quietly, he opened a small panel to reveal a cavity crammed full of parchments.

He pulled out an old _Noldor Now!_ and scanned its cover: 'How Deep Is Your Gaze – 439 Etherial Expressions To Try At Home'… 'Swords Or Shopping – The Debate Continues'… 'What's Hot in Valimar – Top Tips For The Blessed Realm'… and 'When You're In Love With A Beautiful Human'. Sighing contentedly, he opened the pages and began to read.

_To be continued_


End file.
